


Changes

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But I Promise It Works Out, Good Soul Sam Winchester, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization, Hospitalized Castiel (Supernatural), Implied/Referenced Transphobia, M/M, Panic, Trans Castiel (Supernatural), Trans Character, Trans Male Castiel (Supernatural), Trans Male Character, Transitioning, Worried Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 10:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17806172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Dean gives the nurse his phone. She hands it back after a moment before they start walking. “Yeah, yeah. We’re heading up now. What’s going on?!” Dean scoffs. “Well sorry for not reading past ‘Cas is in the hospital’! Why was he in surgery?! Was there an accident? Did he…?” Dean sucks his bottom lip beneath his upper, as if that’s going to prevent his words from becoming the reality they already are. “Was he attacked?”





	Changes

Dean’s phone vibrates eighteen more times on the dashboard. His fists clench the steering wheel. His teeth grind against each other like sandpaper. He can’t discern the water running down the side of his face from sweat and tears. Not when every inch of him stings at the mere thought of... the radio. What’s on the radio?

_“—begs the question is this music a breeding ground for oppression, or are we just reinforcing bad behavior? As both a parent and a fan of the genre, I have to say—”_

_“‘Tranny with a fanny.’ That’s a good one. I think fanny packs are coming back though. Adam Levine was spotted in LA with a bedazzled fanny a few weeks ago. I guess_ we’re _the min—“_

_“Oh no, it’s coming, believe me. So as I’m lying there in my hospital bed—two casts on each of my feet, staring up at this popcorn ceiling—Bowie starts playing over the speakers. And I think, ‘Facing the strange is an understatement.’”_

Okay, that’s enough radio for today.

Dean steps on the gas fast enough to pass cars on either side of him, but not fast enough to outrace his mind scheming every possible way it could’ve all gone wrong.

 

**Two Years Earlier**

“So Castiel, why are you interested in volunteering with us?”

Castiel’s trenchcoat hits the legs of the chair as he uncrosses his legs. He glances down briefly at the blue tie resting against his white dress shirt. A single paperclip is hooked inside the fabric. It doesn’t help suspend anything except disbelief when he looks up again and answers:

“Without getting too personal, I was impoverished during my early teen years.” He pauses to smile again when he senses the unease in the room. “And when something like that happens to you, it’s about as bad as anyone can imagine. But, in hindsight, I think it was a blessing. It taught me a lot about independence and self-sufficiency. I went from your average teen with low self-esteem and a head full of excuses to an adult with a work promotion and an apartment full of furniture. I’d like to, if possible, extend that knowledge and drive to other homeless youth and their families.”

“Wow, okay. That’s…” Dean blinks a few times. “Amazing.” He shakes his head with a scoff right after the word leaves his mouth. “Um. What would you say your biggest accomplishment is so far? Aside from… _all_ that.”

“Going on T. The transition, both emotionally and physically, has been excruciating, but rewarding.” He reaches up to tug on a loose dark hair falling in his eye. “The next step is finding the right barber.”

Castiel tilts his head. “Will that be an issue?”

It takes a few seconds, but Dean manages to pull back from his ogling. That and his phone buzzes in his pocket. “No, no, not at all,” he replies a little too aggressively. “In fact, we’re currently serving a couple families who could benefit from your experience. If you’re comfortable, that is.”

“One-hundred percent,” Castiel replies, grinning full-teeth now. “Thank you for asking.”

“Of course. Yeah, no…” Dean clears his throat when he catches Charlie in the opening of the door. He’s thankful Castiel blocks her enigmatic grin when he stands along with Dean. “Thank you for coming in. We look forward to having you on the team.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something else, but replaces it with his hand. Castiel gives it a firm shake.

After Castiel exits the small conference room, Dean checks the message on his phone.

Charlie: _Stare at him longer, Cyclops, I dare you_

**Now**

_6 Missed Calls from Cas_

_2 Voicemails from Cas_

_3 Missed Calls from Sam_

_9 Messages from Sam_

Dean shoves his phone back into his pocket. Three forceful attempts later at getting the elevator to the fifth floor of the parking garage, Dean bolts for the stairs. After the second flight, he can’t distinguish his heart pounding from his feet. Even the siren of the ambulance pulling into the lot is reduced to a small hum. It’s true what they say about your life flashing before your eyes. Except, this isn’t his life. This is his _world._

“What do you mean he’s in recovery? What happened?! Is he badly hurt?!”

“He was hurting,” the nurse says, smiling, “he’s alright now.”

“What does that mean?!” Dean presses, “ _Was?_ ”

“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information, Mr.…”

“Dean! I’m his boyfriend! Please! Please, you have to…” His voice breaks before he gets an idea. He pulls his phone back out and dials Sam’s number. “Hey, I’m here. Can you tell them I’m with you? Sure. Yeah, hold on.”

Dean gives the nurse his phone. She hands it back after a moment before they start walking. “Yeah, yeah. We’re heading up now. What’s going on?!” Dean scoffs. “Well sorry for not reading past ‘Cas is in the hospital’! Why was he in surgery?! Was there an accident? Did he…?” Dean sucks his bottom lip beneath his upper, as if that’s going to prevent his words from becoming the reality they already are. “Was he attacked?”

Dean stops in the corridor. His breath doesn’t just hitch—it suffocates him. The rest of his air supply is ripped from his throat like an endless scarf. He collapses to his knees and clutches his hollow ribcage as it shakes uncontrollably.

~.~

 

Hours pass without a sound, minus the heart rate monitor—for which Dean’s grateful. It’s the only thing keeping him grounded next to Sam’s unwavering hand on his knee.

“Thank you.”

Dean faces him with a small smile after he says so. Sam nods. He knows the true meaning behind those words. He knows it extends beyond a lift to the hospital.

Once upon a time, Dean was selfish with Sam. From the time he was born, Dean would keep a keen watch on anyone who held him, fed him. He was even the first to catch him when he began walking.

Then Cas came into his life. Cas came into his life and taught him how to share.

Cas taught him a lot of things.

Dean’s standing over him now, one hand cupping his cheek. His pectorals are bandaged and bruised, but they’re flat.

His chest is _flat._

And whether or not it’s the morphine or Cas’s own joy, he’s breathing softly and smiling in his sleep. A man who’s gone through as brutal a surgery as he has—a man who’s suffered years of insecurity and invalidation and taken beatings that’ve left him equally bandaged and bruised, is finally smiling.

Stirring Dean from his musings is Cas’s head moving beneath his hand.

“Hey, stranger.” Cas’s voice comes out raspier than usual—even more than when he’s sick. Cas loves it when he’s sick because it always makes him sound manlier. There’s no doubt in Dean’s mind he’s in his element right now. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Dean laughs. He doesn’t mean to, but a few tears spill onto Cas’s chest. If Cas feels any pain from it, he’s biting it back with a big gummy grin. “Thought I almost did.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you to get off work. They called last-minute with an opening. I didn’t…”

“ _Cas_.” Dean sputters out his name through the tears. He moves his hand up to brush a loose hair from his forehead. “Baby, you’ve waited twenty-six years. If you think I was going to hold you back another second, you couldn’t possibly be more wrong.”

Cas’s eyes shine with his own tears, but the difference is his don’t fall. They don’t need to to prove what words don’t even do justice capturing: “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

This time, when he kisses Cas, his life flashes before his eyes—but it’s not just his life now. It’s Cas’s too. It’s theirs, together. It’s a past, present, and future, with none other than Castiel Novak.

 

 

 

 


End file.
